This is love
by Sterling15
Summary: My creative outlet. Will basically be a series of one-shots of varying lengths and pairings. Mostly destiel, though...
1. I got you

This will really just be a lot of one-shots of varying length. Kind of an outlet for my nagging creativity without having to get involved in a full-out story. Will have varying pairings.

Dean woke suddenly in the night, moonlight streaming in the grimy motel-window, and he looked around blearily, trying to figure out what had woken him. Looking across the room he saw Sam lying diagonally across the tiny bed, ape-like limbs thrown out haphazardly. Then, looking down at the warm body beside him, he felt his heart break. The recently humanized angel's usually serene face was scrunched up as if in pain, body tense, and his hands clutched at the top of Dean's sleeping pants. A single tear leaked out of one shut eye, and a whimper escaped his throat.

"Shh, Cas." Dean whispered gently, turning onto his side and stroking Cas's face gently. He began to quiver and whimper more rapidly and Dean pulled him flush against his bare chest, gently kissing the top of the mop of black hair. The quivers subsided, and Cas's long arms wrapped around Dean's waist, hugging him tightly. Lying back against the pillows, Dean settled as Cas rested his head on Dean's chest, on top of his anti-possession tattoo and thus, his heart. "I got you, Cas. I got you." Cas's breathing slowly settled, as Dean ran his hand softly up and down his arm. "I got you." And they both slept on.


	2. Junkgazing

Castiel was gazing quietly out the window into the dark junkyard when Dean came down the stairs, blearily, from their room. The bed-rumpled man was staring at the piles upon piles of junk cars as if they held the meaning of life. Coming up behind him, Dean wrapped his arms around the man, burying his nose into the mop of dark hair upon his head.

"You alright, Cas?"

Castiel sighed quietly before leaning back against Dean's chest. "I dreamt again last night. I dreamt of… of my brothers' disappointment. And what the list of possible punishments included." Dean's arms tighten around him. "I'm hurting, Dean. I truly would not trade a_nything_ that's happened, but I am hurting." He turned in his former charge's arms until they were face to face, arms wrapping around Dean's waist and his voice dropping to a whisper. "Why am I still hurting?"

Dean sighed and pulled Castiel closer to him, squishing him against his chest. "Because even though they betrayed, out casted, and tried to kill you, they're still your family. You've been with them for what? Thousands? Millions of years? You miss them. I wish you didn't, but I understand." He placed a soft kiss to Castiel's forehead and sighed quietly and took his hand, pulling him towards the stairs. "Come back to bed. See if we can get you some sleep."

A glint ignited in Castiel's eyes. A glint that Dean _really_ did not dislike. "I have a much better idea," the former angel took the lead, pulling Dean up the stairs with him and kicking their door shut once they were inside.


	3. Poor confused little angel

I felt like trying my hand at Cas's lack of understanding. I think I did a decent job... It's super short, but whatevs.

I OWN NOTHING

* * *

><p>"Oh, come on! My music's not that bad!"<p>

"Are you kidding me, Sammy? It's like Bon Jovi had a pet monkey that took a shit, that shit had kids and a dog, and that shit's dog took a shit, and _that's_ your music."

Castiel's head turned back and forth between the arguing brothers as he attempted to understand exactly what was going on. He spoke up, interrupting Sam's attempt to defend his taste in music. "I… I don't understand. How could a monkey's feces have a family and a pet, and how could its pet produce feces that became music?"

The brothers froze mid-argument, Sam turning slowly in his seat to stare at the angel in the back seat. Dean's gaze went to the rear-view mirror to lock gazes with Castiel. Several seconds passed before Castiel said calmly, "Dean, you're about to hit a tree…"

"SHIT!" The car flung its occupants around a bit as Dean pulled sharply at the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding what would have been a rather unpleasant accident. Seemingly forgetting their previous argument, Sam began bitching about the quality (or lack thereof) of Dean's driving skills. Then they moved on to whether they really need to stop at the gas station for a crappy piece of pie.

Castiel still did not understand the process that created Sam's music.


End file.
